THE ZIMVENTURES #6:

SOMEWHERE IN TIME . . .

CHAPTER 1

PLAYING WITH ZIM'S HEAD

Naturally, it all began when Zim was sleeping. He dreamed about time traveling, as he sometimes did. Mostly he relived the nightmare of having to save Mad Dog DD's life, but every once in a while he remembered the glory of shooting DD in the first place. Sometimes those dreams were wet.

But this time he'd been transported to ancient Japan in his dream, which was completely strange as he'd never been there before, nor had he ever planned on being there. For some reason he saw himself fighting dinosaurs with a samurai sword. Even worse, he had a soul patch, and didn't that sound vaguely familiar? But he would never grow one, so he didn't give this dream much thought.

He felt himself take to the sky like Superman, and he floated in front of the T-rex's grim, yellow eyes. It lurched forward to snap him up in its jaws, and Zim plunged the sword into the roof of its mouth, piercing its pea-sized brain. Below him the other samurai chanted victory cries and bowed to the hero who had saved their lives. Drums beat loudly in celebration . . . except that wasn't part of the dream.

No. He opened his eyes and found himself in his room. Someone knocked on the door to the apartment, and he remembered that he was supposed to hang out with Fitz and Brandon for another fucking karaoke night. It was probably Brandon at the door, and he would no doubt torture the shit out of Zim. What a great way to start a miserable day.

"I'm coming! Goddammit!" Zim forced himself out of bed and staggered over to the door. The person on the other side had not stopped knocking. "If that's you, Brandon, I'm going to have Future Booze Jesus sodomize you! And he'll do it, too!"

The hammering did not cease. Zim, dressed only in his boxer shorts, flung the door open. "Fuck you, Brandon!"

It was not Brandon. Whoever this person was, he seemed official. He wore coveralls and a baseball cap so far down over his face that Zim could barely see the guy's nose. There was a badge on his collar, and he held a clipboard. Well, that cinched it. People with clipboards could be trusted.

"Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

"No apology necessary," the man said. "My name is Gabriel. Comcast sent me out to take a look at your cable connection. Are you Cris Zim?"

"Yeah. You probably want to talk to Fitz, though. He's my roommate, and he's usually in charge of this stuff."

"Fitz?" Gabriel seemed confused.

"John Fitzgerald. You probably have his name on that thing." Zim leaned forward to get a look at the clipboard.

Gabriel pulled back. "Ah yes. I see it here. May I come in?"

"I guess." Zim stepped aside. "Do whatever you have to do. I'm going back to sleep."

Gabriel removed the baseball cap, and his extraordinarily thick eyebrows went up. "Don't you want to keep an eye on me? I'm a total stranger."

"You're Gabriel from Comcast," Zim said. Besides, if this guy stole anything it would probably belong to Fitz. All of Zim's stuff was in his bedroom.

Gabriel closed the door behind him. "You're a very trusting soul, Mr. Zim."

"Call me Cris."

Gabriel set the clipboard down, and Zim had enough time to notice that the sheet of paper on it was blank. Gabriel said, "So . . . what is your ability?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zim said.

Gabriel put his hat down on top of the clipboard. "Some of you can fly. Some of you can talk to machines. Once I even met a girl who could heal any wound."

Zim was half listening, so he didn't get Gabriel's drift. "Look, just fix whatever you need to fix, okay? I only got ten hours of sleep last night, so . . ."

"You have no idea as to who I am, do you?" Gabriel said. "All of you speak my name in whispers and cross yourselves in the hope that you'll be protected from me. Does the name Sylar mean anything to you?"

Zim was starting to think this guy was crazy up until that last part. "Hey, I have a Sylar watch. It's really top of the line stuff. This thing'll never break down on me. And I don't even have to wind it. It's the best watch I've ever owned."

"Really? You have a Sylar watch?"

"Yep."

Gabriel blinked. "Well, you're a man of taste. No matter. I am known to the greater world as Sylar. Perhaps now you have heard of me?"

Zim shrugged. "Nope."

"Come on. You must have some kind of ability."

"I'm kind of a loser. I can shoot an old revolver pretty well. And I always seem to find myself in weird situations involving vampires and time travel and stuff. And I was having a kick ass dream in which I fought a T-rex with a samurai sword."

Sylar scratched his scalp, and he looked at Zim as if he were the one out of his mind.

Zim just stared back blankly.

"Fuck it," Sylar said. "I'll find out in a moment." He threw his hand up, and Zim flew across the room. His body stuck to the wall as if he were a fly caught in a spider web.

"Jesus!" Zim yelled. "What the fuck is going on?!"

Sylar held up a finger and slowly drew it from left to right. Searing pain took up residence in Zim's head, and he howled as a line of blood seeped across his forehead. It felt like someone was opening up his head.

Sylar nodded. "That's because I am opening your head, Cris. I'm going to play with your brain until I acquire your ability."

Did this weird fucker just read Zim's mind?

"Yes, I can read minds. I can also project thoughts. So dig this . . ."

Inside Zim's head, he could hear Sylar's voice. ". . . you are so fucked."

Zim had never felt so much pain, and for the first time in a long time he felt a fear so overwhelming he thought he was going to shit himself. He wished he was far away from this place. This all had to be a dream. In fact he could rather be in a place where he was considered a hero. Why not go back to ancient Japan to slay a T-rex?

As more pain exploded in his head, Zim closed his eyes and wished with all his might that he was in his dream . . . and when he opened his eyes he was in a field. He slumped down, unstuck from his own time (and his wall) and found himself on his hands and knees in a field of grass almost as tall as himself. Trees in the distance wept blossoms, and the wind carried them in a swirl around him.

The sky above him suddenly became dark. He peered through the snowstorm of pedals to see the sun's light dimming as a crescent of darkness overcame it. An eclipse.

Someone shouted at him in another language, and Zim was seized from behind by two men in elaborate and silly-looking battle armor. They looked like they'd just stepped out of some bad anime show. But they were strong, and their weapons did not look quite so ridiculous. They looked deadly.

Another samurai stepped forward, katana drawn and aimed at Zim's throat. He asked a gruff question, which Zim could not understand. The intent was pretty clear, though, and Zim clenched his teeth and waited to die. He wanted to say something witty or profound, but he knew such an attempt would be useless when the only people present didn't speak English.

So instead he hissed. "Fffffffffffuck." He closed his eyes because he didn't want to see his own death coming at him . . .